


Consumed

by draculard



Category: Jisatsu Circle | Suicide Club (2002)
Genre: Cannibalism, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Memory Issues, Necrophilia, PTSD, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 07:54:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20131969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: Later on, she'll swear he was bleeding.





	Consumed

Later on, she’ll swear that he was bleeding. She remembers it clearly: first, before anything else, she heard a sound like a crack and felt something liquid splatter on her chest. 

It was blood. That’s why she looked up; she swears it. That’s why she saw Masa falling from the sky. He was bleeding — he must have been wounded — and the blood landed on her first, before he jumped. 

The police disagree. They say Masa was uninjured; he was whole and healthy and fit. He didn’t even have so much as a scraped knee, as a nosebleed. How they can know this, Mitsuko has no clue. How can they look at his wreck of a body afterward and say he was unharmed? How can they tell?

He’s all blood now.

* * *

_ Miss, _ the policeman says, _ he can’t have bled on you. _

Why not, then?

He points at her. His fingers are short and stubby; one of them is wrapped in a clunky, water-stained ring. It’s all Mitsuko can focus on; the policeman himself is trim and fit, and it makes no sense for his hands to be so chubby. It’s unfair. 

She feels so bad for him she might cry.

_ It’s not possible, _says the policeman, pointing that stubby finger right at her chest. She worries the ring is squeezing it too tight. She worries it might fall off from lack of circulation. She couldn’t bear if it fell off in front of her.

_ There’s no blood on your shirt, _the policeman says. 

She couldn’t bear it. She’s seen too much today.

* * *

Witnesses say that Masa jumped, and that Mitsuko didn’t see him falling until he’d already hit the ground. She didn’t look up when a speck of blood fell on her shirt; she didn’t see him coming. Worse, witnesses say he fell and hit the sidewalk several feet from her, that he dropped and the only impact was his body against cement.

Mitsuko remembers it differently.

She remembers the speck of blood, and glancing upward. She remembers seeing Masa falling through the sky, unable to comprehend it. _ What is that? Who is that? Is it a man? _It was coming right for her, whatever it was, and she didn’t have the presence of mind to move.

She sees his face a second before he falls on her. His weight drives her to the ground, dashes her skull off the cement, blacks out her vision. 

She wakes with the taste of blood in her mouth. Her blood; Masa’s blood. 

She wakes hungry, greedy for more.

* * *

Surveillance photos show Mitsuko walking into the police station in her school uniform, pristine and pressed. The timestamp shows it’s only been fifteen minutes since Masa jumped. No time to change clothes.

No bloodstains. No flecks of brain or skin or small white shards of bone. No scent of ruptured intestines, of copper, of foul decaying air.

Her uniform is fresh from the dryer. It smells like her laundry detergent still. 

* * *

_ Did you eat him? _the policeman asks. Mitsuko blinks; she looks at him again, eyes his lips, tries to remember what he’s asked her. 

_ Yes, _ she says. The policeman blinks, consults his notes.

_ You left school early? _he asks, and from the tone of his voice she knows he’s repeating the question, that she must have misheard him earlier, that she’s answered wrong.

_ No, my mistake, _ she says. _ No. _

Why _ isn’t _ he asking her? That’s the real question, isn’t it? Did she eat him — yes, but when? She feels chunks of his skin beneath her fingernails. She feels a segment of his brain rolling, raw and bloody, on her tongue. She feels muscle fibers stuck between her teeth. 

She remembers lying there with Masa’s broken body on top of her. She remembers crying. She remembers reaching for him, eyes closed, and finding parts of him dismembered on her chest, her stomach. She remembers bringing them to her mouth. She remembers chewing as she sobbed, she remembers choking. She remembers the erotic sting of his dead flesh in her mouth, the little pieces no one would ever find, no one would miss.

She blinks. The policeman reads his notes, disinterested. Tired from a long, strange day.

_ I’m sorry, _ Mitsuko says.

The policeman doesn’t respond.

* * *

In bed, so many hours later, Mitsuko clasps her hands over her stomach and stares up at the ceiling, unseeing. 

She hears a crack as something liquid splatters on her chest.


End file.
